


but the children are doing fine, i think about them all the time.

by taeyoungz



Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Family Drama, Gen, het stuff too am sorry again, might have character death in the future chapters, no ships i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeyoungz/pseuds/taeyoungz
Summary: a death. a coronation. two weddings. and a kidnapping.is this really a royal family if you don't betray each other just a little bit?-or the cravity royalty au no one asked for.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 28





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone. yes welcome to a kpop fan and history buff's most self-indulgent project yet. 
> 
> i have no idea how many chapters this will be, but i hope you enjoy the ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> serim has a secret.

If there’s one thing that Serim treasures the most, it’s his family.

Every night, if he’s not too tired from the day’s work or too busy accompanying his brother Allen on one of his many campaigns, Serim would close his eyes and reminisce about the times when he and all of his brothers would play in the courtyard on particularly hot summer afternoons.

In his mind, he’d see Allen, a wooden sword in hand, ready to challenge Woobin to a duel. Jungmo would be seated beside their mother, a book clutched in his hands as he watches the rest of his brothers scamper around like excited little kittens. Beside him, on their mother’s lap, would be Seongmin, barely old enough to walk, his wide eyes staring at all the activity in pure awe. Taeyoung, who isn’t much older than Seongmin, would be waddling away on his own, gurgling happily as he joins his older brothers in running around. Wonjin, Minhee, and Hyeongjun would be stumbling over their feet, too engrossed in their game of tag to notice the mud stains on their previously pristine leather boots.

And finally, Serim would see himself, the ever so obedient Crown Prince, standing beside his father, nodding along to the King’s reminders of his son’s duties for tomorrow.

Serim remembers all of this as if it were only yesterday. All of them were so young and so oblivious to the pains of the world.

But now, standing over his sick father’s bed, all those memories bring a bittersweet taste to Serim’s mouth. His father’s pale lips are a grim reminder that even the bravest, strongest, and most competent monarchs must fall.

Just then, the door to the room swings open and Allen enters, still bloodied and dirty from his month long campaign. The second-born hurriedly marches up to his father’s bedside.

“How is he?” Allen asks, turning to Serim.

Serim sighs. “He’s not in the best shape. It’s getting worse everyday.”

Serim sees Allen’s jaw tense up. Serim avoids his younger brother’s gaze, slightly ashamed that he couldn’t do more for their father.

“You know what’s bound to happen, right?” Allen asks. Serim keeps his eyes focused on the foot of the bed, still refusing to look Allen in the eye.

“I know he’s at death’s door, Allen,” Serim replies curtly.

“And what happens once he walks through?” Allen asks, walking around from the other side of the bed and stopping in front of Serim.

“You become king,” Allen finishes.

Serim finally forces himself to look at Allen. The younger had gashes across his face, dirt and blood masking his true royal looks. Serim feels sorry at the fact that Allen puts his life on the line to prove himself to their father. Serim knows that Allen would give anything to be in his position; to be the heir apparent, to be gazed upon by their father with such hope and admiration. He’s known it since they were little.

“I become king,” Serim repeats. “There isn’t much to that.”

Allen laughs, if not a little bitterly.

“You’re not even a little scared by the thought?” Allen asks.

“I’ve been preparing for this my whole life,” Serim says matter-of-factly.

“There is no use in being scared of my duty.”

Allen nods at this. For a moment, Serim thinks that Allen might be in a mood, but a moment later, the younger smiles.

“Father prepared you well,” Allen praises, clapping Serim on the shoulder.

Serim knows Allen’s just being nice. He sees it in the way Allen’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and in the way that Allen’s grip tightens on the sword still strapped to his waist.

“As he did with all of us,” Serim counters, returning a smile of his own.

Allen sighs, turning away. “I suppose.”

“Well,” the younger continues. “I should be going. Mother wants a nice dinner tonight to celebrate my safe return, yes?”

Serim nods. “That’s what she told me.”

“Very well.” Allen bows his head slightly before turning away and walking towards the door.

Serim watches Allen reach for the doorknob. The younger stops and turns back to look at him.

“I’m excited for your wedding,” Allen teases, the corner of his lips turning up in a smirk.

“Shouldn’t we be worrying about the funeral and my coronation first?” Serim questions, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not so much about the festivities that I’m excited for,” Allen informs. He opens the door and steps outside. For a moment, Allen stands in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, his expression steely.

“It’s who you’re marrying that’s important.”

“You already know who I’m marrying,” Serim says. “Princess Elya has been promised to me since we were children.”

Allen nods, a knowing smile growing on his face.

“Is that a promise you’re willing to break?” Allen asks, raising an eyebrow.

Serim gives Allen a look. “What?”

“You don’t want to marry her,” Allen declares. He glances over at his father’s sleeping form before looking Serim straight in the eye.

“I wonder what would kill Father the fastest,” Allen says, his voice low.

“His sickness or the fact that you’re in love with a minor noble from a rival kingdom?”


	2. chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet the other princes.

“I heard Allen’s coming home today,” Seongmin muses, trying to balance on a fallen log, his arms held out at his sides. Taeyoung watches his younger brother in amusement, an idea popping into his head.

“He is,” Taeyoung confirms. He grabs Seongmin’s knapsack that’s filled with sweets and throws it at the younger one.

“Catch!” Taeyoung calls out, and Seongmin predictably whips around, losing his balance, and before he knows it, he’s falling off the log, crashing backside first onto the damp soil.

Seongmin yells in annoyance, getting up immediately to land a punch on Taeyoung’s arm.

“You’re a jerk!” Seongmin whines, punching Taeyoung again. The older of the two just laughs, picking up the bag of sweets before slinging it over his shoulder.

“We should get going. Mother would want us home for the celebration dinner for Allen,” Taeyoung reminds, helping Seongmin dust off the dirt on his trousers.

The two of them start walking towards the direction of the castle, the forest trail giving them a clear indicator of which way to go. They walk for a few minutes, the topic of what kind of food would most likely be served at dinner later coming up more than once.

“I’m hungrier than I thought,” Seongmin wonders out loud. As if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly and the two of them burst out into peals of laughter.

“I wish Mother would throw feasts for me,” Taeyoung remarks.

“For what? For pulling all those hellish pranks on her?” Seongmin says, laughing.

“The pranks always make her laugh!” Taeyoung defends.

“She only laughs because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Seongmin concludes, sticking his tongue out at Taeyoung.

“I’ll become a general like Allen one day,” Seongmin declares. “I’ll ride out on long campaigns bearing our kingdom’s flag and Mother would throw the same grand feasts she does for Allen.”

Taeyoung snorts. “You can’t even be outside for too long or else you’ll get too pale and sick.”

Seongmin shoves Taeyoung playfully. “I’m getting better! Mother says the next doctor is the best in the land and he’ll find a cure for my sickness.”

“She says that with every doctor,” Taeyoung points out.

Before Seongmin can reply, the two of them stop dead in their tracks as they hear the sound of horses approaching them from behind.

“Who could that be?” Taeyoung asks, both him and Seongmin observing the trail behind them.

“Travelers from another kingdom?” Seongmin supplies, standing on his toes in an effort to get a better look.

Suddenly, three galloping horses emerge from the brush, racing towards the two young princes. Seongmin grabs Taeyoung’s arm in surprise, shrinking behind the older as fear begins to rise in his chest.

In a second, the two boys were surrounded by the horses and their riders: men with black cloaks on with the hoods pulled over their head.

“Taeyoung…,” Seongmin whispers. Taeyoung takes Seongmin’s hand in his and squeezes it tight.

“Who are you?” Taeyoung demands, trying to put on a brave face for both him and his brother.

“You don’t need to know that,” one of the riders replies. He looks at the two others and nods.

“That’s them. The youngest princes of the Vity Clan,” the first rider says.

Before either Taeyoung or Seongmin could react, the two other riders were already jumping off their horses.

The last thing Taeyoung and Seongmin saw before sacks were pulled over their heads were each other’s terrified faces.

\---

“Wonjin!”

The Queen’s shrill voice echoes through the hallway, her footsteps loud and full of intent as she rushes over to her son.

“Do you know how late it is? Your brother is home from fighting a war and tonight’s dinner is in honor of him,” the Queen admonishes. “I told you to get ready hours ago!”

“I lost track of time,” Wonjin explains. “I’ll be downstairs soon.”

“You better be,” the Queen presses. She eyes Wonjin up and down before shaking her head in disapproval.

“A prince like you should be using his time for more important things rather than spending hours upon hours riding through the forest,” the Queen says, pulling out her handkerchief and wiping away some of the sweat from Wonjin’s face.

Wonjin pulls away, keeping his mother at arm’s length.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wonjin replies curtly before bowing. He walks past his mother and towards the direction of his room, his annoyance growing by the second.

“Wonjin!” the Queen calls out once more.

“Yes, Mother?” Wonjin asks exasperatedly, whipping around to look at the Queen.

“Have you seen Taeyoung and Seongmin? They said they’d be in the forest, but I haven’t heard from them since. It’s getting quite late.”

Wonjin shrugs. “I haven’t. They must have been playing at a different spot.”

The Queen nods, but Wonjin doesn’t miss the worried look on her face.

“I’m sure they’re on their way home,” Wonjin offers. “They know better than to come home late. And especially on a day like today.”

The Queen smiles at this. “They’d definitely know better than you, my little troublemaker.”

Wonjin chuckles at this.

“I thought Taeyoung was the troublemaker?” Wonjin asks.

The Queen beams at her son.

“All nine of you boys are troublemakers in your own way.”

\---

“I can’t believe Allen’s home!” Hyeongjun cheers excitedly as he bounds down the hallway with Minhee following close behind.

“It feels like an eternity since we last saw him,” Hyeongjun continues, looking back at Minhee.

“Aren’t you excited?” Hyeongjun asks.

Minhee just shrugs. “I guess.”

Hyeongjun’s steps falter until he stops completely. He eyes his brother worriedly.

“Are you feeling alright?” Hyeongjun asks again, reaching up to feel Minhee’s forehead. The older one gently pries Hyeongjun’s hand away.

“I’m fine,” Minhee reassures his brother. “I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Like?” Hyeongjun presses once more as the two of them resume walking.

“Just a lot,” Minhee replies.

“Is this about what Mother said a few weeks ago about you getting married?”

Minhee doesn’t respond for a few seconds, his hands shoved inside his trouser pockets. His eyes are trained on the marble floor below. After a moment, Minhee sighs.

“Yes.”

Hyeongjun purses his lips, nodding.

“It’s what Mother and father wants,” Hyeongjun points out.

“Is it what _I_ want?” Minhee asks out loud, more to himself than to Hyeongjun.

“You know you’re supposed to carry out every duty our parents set out for us to do,” Hyeongjun says.

Minhee gives him a look, one that Hyeongjun can’t quite decipher.

“I know that. It’s just a strange feeling to know that I’d be a ruler in my own right once I’m married,” Minhee explains. “That once the ceremony is over, I’d have to start a family and rule over land and other people. It’s a big responsibility.”

Hyeongjun sighs. “You’d make father proud by taking on that responsibility. You’re the most sought-after bachelor out of all of us. Mother and father have chosen your bride with the kingdom’s best interests in mind.”

Minhee shakes his head.

“I just wish they had _my_ best interests in mind.”

\---

“Have you visited father today?” Woobin asks, gazing out the library window. The courtyard is empty at this time of day, save for a few of their workers coming in after a long day of collecting firewood.

“He wouldn’t notice if I didn’t,” Jungmo replies, coming up behind Woobin.

Woobin turns to look at him, a disappointed look on his face.

“He’s still your father, Jungmo. And he’s still the King,” Woobin reminds.

“And I’m still his son, even though he acts as if I’m anything but,” Jungmo snaps back, placing a book down on a small table beside the window.

Woobin knows Jungmo isn’t angry. He never gets angry. He knows that at the end of the day, Jungmo is just hurt at the fact that their father never seems to give Jungmo the time of day as he does with the rest of his brothers.

“And he won’t be king for much longer,” Jungmo continues.

“Are you that eager for him to die?” Woobin asks in disbelief.

“I’m just telling the truth,” Jungmo declares. “At least Serim pays attention to me.”

Woobin pauses at the mention of Serim’s name. He turns away from Jungmo, eyes drifting towards the late afternoon sky.

_Serim, their next king._

“Serim’s been hiding something from us,” Woobin blurts out.

Jungmo’s head snaps up, a look of mild surprise on his face.

“Hiding what?” Jungmo asks.

Woobin sighs. “He’s supposed to marry Princess Elya of the Yidora Empire.”

“I know that. Everyone knows that,” Jungmo points out. “That’s not exactly a secret, is it?”

“But he’s in love with Isla from Sedo,” Woobin continues.

Jungmo’s eyebrows shoot up at this.

“Sedo? You mean the kingdom we’ve been at war with since our great grandfather’s reign?” Jungmo asks in disbelief.

“How that happened, I have no idea,” Woobin explains. “But, all I know is that Serim plans on abandoning his marriage to Elya so he could be with Isla instead.”

“And,” Woobin continues, a grim look in his eyes. “If he does this, he’ll be accused of treason.”

“Well, if he gets married after he’s crowned as King, that won’t be any problem,” Jungmo points out. “He can do whatever he wants after father dies.”

Woobin shakes his head.

“If he gets married before father dies, father can accuse him of treason. If father is even strong enough to do so. But, still, it’s a possibility and is technically what father would do,” Woobin points out.

“But, if Serim gets married after father dies and after he’s named King…,” Woobin trails off, unsure whether he should continue.

“What? What could possibly happen?” Jungmo demands.

“It’s Allen who’ll accuse him of treason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapters will be much more eventful! hang in there everyone~


	3. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If Allen wants to kill me so bad, tell him he’s welcome to do so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a longer chapter for y'all!! more drama is being stirred up in this household. 
> 
> thank you so much for the support so far! comments and kudos are much appreciated <3

The first thing Wonjin hears as he descends the stairs is his mother’s panicked cries. It’s a strange sound, one Wonjin hasn’t heard before. He was so used to seeing his mother so composed, the perfect image of what a queen should be. Years of witnessing her husband and her sons come home with injuries uglier than the last had hardened her into a warrior in her own right. The Queen could stare Death in the face and she wouldn’t even flinch.

He stops short as his mother gives one loud shriek, and before he has time to register exactly what he was hearing, his mother’s yelling had progressed into wailing, sobs racked with so much pain it started to stir fear in Wonjin’s chest.

What could possibly be the reason for his mother’s outburst?

Before Wonjin could continue rushing down the stairs, he hears rushed footsteps coming up from behind him. He looks up to see Jungmo and Woobin sprinting down the flight of stairs above him.

“What is it? What’s wrong with Mother?” Woobin asks as they approach Wonjin.

Wonjin shakes his head, his heart thumping against his chest.

“I don’t know.” Wonjin didn’t realize just how frightened he was, his voice shaking as he answered.

The three princes finish climbing down the last steps, rushing into the great hall where their feast was supposed to take place.

They’re met with the sight of their mother, inconsolable and weeping on the floor as she clutches something to her chest. Serim is by her side, whispering things to her, most likely in an attempt to calm her down.

Wonjin had never seen his mother like this. She’s as regal as regal can get. An equal to their father in every right. She’s the only one that could challenge their father in his decisions and seeing her like this is sending a wave of confusion and worry through Wonjin.

Glancing up, Wonjin sees Allen conversing angrily with some of their guards. Seeing his brother back from his campaign should excite Wonjin but given the situation at hand, Wonjin can’t bring himself to celebrate.

“What happened?” Woobin asks, his voice calm and commanding. Wonjin just watches as Woobin walks up to Allen and the guards.

Allen whips his head around, as if noticing the others for the first time. Allen looks at Woobin and pulls him into a hug. Wonjin continues to stare, still unsure of what to do. Allen pulls away from Woobin and makes eye contact with Wonjin.

This snaps Wonjin out of his trance. He rushes forward and throws himself at Allen, relief finally flooding his chest as it finally sinks in that his brother is alive and well.

“Allen,” Wonjin whispers as he breathes in his brother’s familiar scent. “What’s happening?”

Allen pulls away, holding onto Wonjin’s shoulders, as if to steady him for what he’s about to say.

“Taeyoung and Seongmin are gone,” Allen says grimly.

Wonjin’s heart sinks. _Gone? What does he mean gone?_

“What?” is all Wonjin can say.

As if on cue, their mother lets out another pained sob, and Wonjin watches as she sinks into Serim’s chest. Wonjin realizes with a start that the thing his mother had been holding onto was Seongmin’s bag of sweets.

At that moment, Wonjin feels as if he’d been struck over the head.

 _“Wonjin! Do you want to come with us to the forest?,”_ Taeyoung had asked earlier this morning. _“Seongmin and I wanted to go see if the summer berries have finally sprouted.”_

 _“Maybe you can teach us some more archery,”_ Seongmin had added. _“You’d do a better job than Sir Astor. He’s no fun at all.”_

Tears had started to well up in Wonjin’s eyes. How could he have been so selfish to refuse his younger brothers’ requests? All they wanted to do was spend time with him and he had so callously turned them down.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Jungmo’s voice suddenly speaks up from behind Wonjin.

“Has it something to do with Father?” Jungmo asks as he worriedly eyes his mother.

“No,” Allen answers. “Taeyoung and Seongmin have been kidnapped.”

“By who?” Woobin questions.

Allen shakes his head. “We don’t know yet, but the guards sent out earlier by mother to fetch the two of them saw three riders in dark cloaks speeding through the forest. They might be the ones responsible for this.”

“I bet this is King Aran’s doing,” Allen accuses. “The Sedo Clan have always had a bone to pick with us.”

“What?” Woobin demands. “What good will they get out of doing this?”

“They know very well that you could raise hell on them any time you want,” Woobin continues. “Their forces have been dwindling these past few months because of their botched attempts at conquering other lands. If they were smart, they’d leave us alone.”

“He’s right,” Jungmo agrees. “It doesn’t make sense for Sedo to suddenly declare war on us like that. Unless they want the last of their people to be wiped out from history.”

“It’s our only lead right now,” Allen insists. “I’ll have some of the guards search the villages within and around the forest by tonight.”

“I should have gone with them,” Wonjin mutters, his hands balling into fists. “They asked me to go with them, but I said no. And now they’re gone because I wanted to waste time aimlessly racing through the woods.”

Woobin grips Wonjin’s shoulder. “If you had gone with them, you would have been taken, too. At least you’re safe here.”

“And they’re out there somewhere, cold and afraid!” Wonjin cries out. “I could have told them to bring their horses with them so the three of us could have raced together instead. I could have done something, but I didn’t!”

Woobin grabs both of Wonjin’s shoulders, shaking him.

“None of this was your fault, Wonjin,” Woobin says firmly. “You didn’t know this would happen.”

Wonjin bites his lip to stop it from trembling, but his tears betray him as his whole body is racked with sobs. Woobin pulls Wonjin to his chest and holds him there, letting Wonjin’s tears soak the front of his tunic.

Wonjin removes himself from Woobin’s embrace, reaching over to grab at Allen’s clothes.

“Let me ride out with the guards tonight,” Wonjin pleads. “I want to help.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Allen refuses, shaking his head. “I can’t have another one of my brothers go missing.”

“I’m the best rider out of all of us!” Wonjin insists. “I’m the fastest and I can hold my own during combat. I promise I’ll be careful.”

Wonjin falls to his knees, still clinging onto Allen’s sleeves.

“I’m begging you, Allen, please.”

Allen stares down at Wonjin for a few moments. A heavy sigh escapes Allen’s lips.

“Alright,” Allen says. “But, I’ll go with you. And you _must_ stay by my side at all times.”

Wonjin nods, scrambling to his feet as he wipes away his tears.

“Of course,” Wonjin obliges. “Thank you.”

Allen nods once. “Very well. I expect you at the stables in an hour.”

\-----

Hyeongjun gazes up at the night sky through his father’s bedroom window, the thought of today’s events weighing heavily on his mind.

Walking into the great hall to see his mother crying on the floor while his other brothers conversed in hushed and worried tones wasn’t the grand feast Hyeongjun was expecting.

Learning about Taeyoung and Seongmin’s disappearance is what really added salt to the newly opened wound.

Hyeongjun’s thoughts are broken when he hears a faint voice calling out to him.

“Hyeongjun? Is that you, my son?”

Hyeongjun turns around to see his father’s eyes flutter open, one of his hands reaching out as if to beckon him closer.

“Father,” Hyeongjun breathes out, rushing to the King’s bedside. Hyeongjun perches himself on the bed beside his father, taking the King’s withering hand in his.

“Is there anything you need?” Hyeongjun asks. “Some poppy milk? Are you hungry?”

The King chuckles and pats Hyeongjun’s hand. “I’m fine, my boy. Having you here by my side is giving me all the strength I need.”

Hyeongjun smiles at this as he squeezes his father’s hand in reassurance.

“Where are your brothers?” The King asks. “Tell them that visiting me while I’m asleep doesn’t count.”

Hyeongjun laughs at this. “I’ll make sure to tell them, Father. It’s just...they’re all a little busy right now.”

“Oh?” The King questions. “How come you’re not busy like them?”

Hyeongjun chuckles. “I’m busy with keeping you company, Father.”

The King shakes his head as he pulls himself up in a sitting position.

“You make it sound like I’m a withering old hermit who needs constant care and attention,” The King complains.

“But, you do need constant care and attention, Father,” Hyeongjun reminds. “Or else you’ll get worse.”

The King waves Hyeongjun off. “I am still the head of the Vity clan and the ruler of this kingdom. No one can take that away from me as long as I live.”

Hyeongjun smiles and nods. “Of course, Father.”

“Say, where are Taeyoung and Seongmin? Have those two been giving your Mother trouble again?” The King asks, absentmindedly rubbing at his beard.

Hyeongjun goes rigid, his palms growing damp. He’s sure that telling the King about what happened will only make his condition worse.

“T-They--,” Hyeongjun sutters. “They’re busy with their studies.”

The King gives Hyeongjun a look. “That’s all?”

Hyeongjun draws in a breath to answer, but before he could say anything else, a soft knock is heard from the door.

“Come in,” Hyeongjun calls out.

One of the King’s nurses pokes her head in before opening the door wide enough for her to bow.

“Your Grace, it’s time for your medicine,” the nurse says meekly.

The King sighs, but ultimately beckons the nurse over.

“May I take my leave?” Hyeongjun asks, standing up.

The King stares at Hyeongjun for a moment before nodding.

“Of course, my child. It _is_ getting late,” the King says.

Hyeongjun bows and starts to make his way out of his father’s room.

“Hyeongjun,” the King calls out. Hyeongjun turns back to look at his father.

“Yes, Father?”

The King sighs once more, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Tell your brothers I miss them.”

\-----

Woobin stares at the fireplace in front of him, the flames dancing and crackling amidst the quiet air of the study.

Today’s events were too much for everyone. He can see it in his brothers’ faces. The Queen had cried her eyes dry, refusing to let Seongmin’s bag out of her grip.

Woobin’s own heart is gripped with worry knowing that Taeyoung and Seongmin were out there, being held captive by some sick person planning on god knows what. Woobin’s insides churn at the thought that Wonjin is out there risking his life trying to find the two of them.

Woobin feels helpless, his world turned upside down in merely a day.

Woobin is broken out of his reverie when he hears the door to the study open. He turns to see Serim step inside, his eyes downcast and his lips pulled down in a frown.

“How’s Mother doing?” Woobin asks as he watches Serim walk over to the fireplace. Serim settles into the large sitting chair beside him.

“She’s being taken care of,” Serim answers. “Taliya is an incredibly helpful lady-in-waiting.”

Woobin smiles, returning his gaze to the fireplace. “She is, isn’t she?”

Serim gives him a curious look. “Is there something I should know here?”

Woobin shakes his head, laughing a little. “No, not really.”

“Are you sure? You’ve always been sweet on her,” Serim points out, fiddling with the pendant around his neck. Woobin subconsciously reaches up to touch his own necklace, identical to the one Serim is wearing.

_A gift, their father had said. A symbol of strength and honor. Each one of them had received a necklace engraved with their kingdom’s insignia on their twelfth birthday. A sign that they were on their way to becoming strong, powerful men. A reminder that the blood of the Vity clan runs through their veins._

“It’s not my romantic endeavors you should be worried about,” Woobin counters.

A stretch of silence follows. Woobin looks over at Serim, the feelings of dread and worry settling in even further in Woobin’s chest.

“I know what you’re planning to do,” Woobin says, his voice almost pleading. “Please, for the love of our kingdom and our dying Father’s wishes, don’t do it.”

“Is this about Isla?” Serim asks, refusing to meet Woobin’s gaze.

“Yes, and you’re making an irreversible mistake by even considering the thought of marrying her,” Woobin presses, sitting up straighter, his frustration evident in his tone.

Serim’s expression is stony, the sharp features of his face highlighted by the dancing flames in front of him.

“It’s about time we ended our war with Sedo,” Serim declares. “It’s hurting our resources and serves no greater purpose. All it brings is bloodshed.”

“Did you forget that they nearly wiped out every single person in our kingdom during our great grandfather’s time?” Woobin reiterates. “They massacred the innocent villagers. Our great grandfather’s life was hanging on by a thread.”

“That was during their time, not ours,” Serim snaps, finally looking Woobin in the eye.

“My first order as king will be to propose a treaty to King Aran,” Serim continues. “And to ask Isla’s hand in marriage.”

Woobin springs up from his seat, anger suddenly taking over.

“And who’s to say he won’t stick a sword straight through your chest the moment you step into his castle gates?” Woobin lashes out.

“What makes you think your honor will protect you against King Aran’s ruthlessness?” Woobin presses on, stepping closer to Serim.

“How are you so sure that he isn’t the same man that took away your two youngest brothers?”

Serim lifts himself from his chair, grabbing Woobin by the collar. Woobin staggers backward as he yanks Serim’s arm away.

“Allen was right,” Woobin says, breathing heavily. “You were never cut out to be king.”

Serim laughs, his lips pulling back into a sneer. “And he thinks he can do a better job than me?”

Serim walks up to Woobin, leaning close to whisper in his ear.

“If Allen wants to kill me so bad, tell him he’s welcome to do so.”


	4. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, that means, they won’t hurt us, right?” Seongmin wonders meekly.
> 
> Taeyoung reaches over, despite the difficulty, and clutches Seongmin’s hand in his. 
> 
> “I won’t let them,” Taeyoung assures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is just confused minhee and angry wonjin wah
> 
> if you have any questions or need clarification on some things about this fic hmu on twitter @minihamtae or on my curiouscat curiouscat.me/taeyougsnoona!
> 
> enjoy <3

“Minhee?”

Minhee shoots up from his seat at the sound of the voice calling out his name, his heart practically leaping out of his chest. Years of combat training had wired his hand to immediately reach for the dagger strapped to his belt, but the sight of the person in front of him allowed him to relax, his arm dropping limply to his side.

“Jungmo,” Minhee greeted back.

“What are you doing here this late?” Jungmo questions, pulling a chair out right across from Minhee. He settles into his seat, folding his arms neatly on the table in front of him. 

“I needed a quiet place to think,” Minhee admits, sitting back down.

Jungmo hums in acknowledgement. “Well, excellent choice, then.”

“But,” Minhee continues. He pauses for a moment to clear his throat. 

“I was also hoping I’d run into you here.”

Jungmo raises an eyebrow at this. “Why? Did you need something?” 

“Well, after that little scene in the great hall, everybody kind of just...left. Even Hyeongjun walked off without saying a word to me,” Minhee explains. 

“Everybody’s just worried for Taeyoung and Seongmin,” Jungmo assures Minhee. 

“You can always come to me if you need help,” Jungmo adds.

Minhee chuckles. “You don’t happen to have any food on you, do you? I haven’t had a bite to eat since the whole feast was called off.”

Jungmo laughs, shaking his head. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t,” Jungmo admits. “But, I heard the maids brought up food to each of our bedchambers.”

“Well, then, I’ll be looking forward to a meal before bed tonight,” Minhee says contentedly, smiling. 

A moment of silence follows as Minhee stares down at his fumbling hands on the table. 

“What is it you wanted to talk about?” Jungmo finally asks. Minhee glances up to see his older brother looking at him with concern. 

“Um, well,” Minhee begins. “I’m getting married in about a month, if what Mother says is correct.”

Jungmo’s eyebrows shoot up at this. 

“It turns out that Mother and Father have been writing to Lord Dohan of the East Region, making marriage arrangements for me and his daughter,” Minhee rambles on. 

“Mother must have planned to let everyone know tonight at the feast, but, as you know…” Minhee trails off, shrugging. 

“Well, congratulations!” Jungmo says, reaching over to clap Minhee’s shoulder. “You might even get married before Serim does.”

“But, I don’t want to,” Minhee blurts out. 

“I mean--,” Minhee rushes on. “Not yet, at least.”

Jungmo’s expression falls as he realizes exactly what Minhee is trying to say.

“I see,” Jungmo says, nodding. 

Silence.

“But, Lord Dohan is a generous man,” Jungmo reasons. “He keeps the East Region in check quite well and he’s one of father’s most trusted allies.”

“Plus,” Jungmo adds. “At least you don’t have to leave your home country. You don’t have to leave Lumen Kingdom.”

“I know that,” Minhee answers. “I know I could do so much worse, it’s just--”

“Don’t tell me you want to marry some other girl from a far off kingdom,” Jungmo cuts Minhee off, eyeing the younger suspiciously. 

“What? No!” Minhee says defensively. 

“I don’t want to get married. That’s it.”

Jungmo stares at Minhee, a little taken aback. Minhee buries his face in his hands in frustration.

“Especially with Taeyoung and Seongmin gone, I don’t think now is the time for any festivities,” Minhee concludes. 

Jungmo lets out a sigh as he leans back in his chair. 

“I don’t know what to say to you, Minhee,” Jungmo confesses. “Mother and Father haven’t made any wedding plans for me, yet.”

Jungmo gives a bitter chuckle. “Come to think of it, I don’t think they have any plans for me at all.” 

“Isn’t that better than having them dictate your every move?” Minhee contests, raising an eyebrow. 

“Stop your whining, Minhee. They’re not dictating your every move. They just want to secure some political alliances, that’s all,” Jungmo explains. 

“I know this is hard for you to understand, considering you’re still so young,” Jungmo offers much more delicately than he had in his earlier statement. “But, you have to understand that there are things much bigger than you. Like the wellbeing of our kingdom.”

Minhee gives Jungmo a long, hard stare. Minhee turns his head to look out the library window, eyes fixated on the stars in the sky.

“I understand,” Minhee finally says after a few moments. “I may not like it, but if it’s what Mother and Father want, then...” 

“Finally, someone sensible in this household,” Jungmo remarks, crossing his arms. 

“Serim ought to learn a lesson from you,” Jungmo adds. 

Minhee’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean?

“He plans to abandon his engagement to Princess Elya from the Yidora Empire,” Jungmo treads on carefully, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“Serim wants to marry Lady Isla from Sedo instead.”

“What?!” Minhee asks in disbelief. “King Aran’s niece? Has he gone insane? Our father killed her father in battle a few years ago. Why would Lady Isla even _like_ Serim, let alone the rest of our family?”

“That’s the point,” Jungmo reiterates. “It makes no sense. I don’t know how it happened exactly, but if you remember, a few months ago, we were invited to a banquet in Yidora. Some of King Aran’s lords and ladies attended, too, including Isla. The two of them must have met then.” 

Minhee shakes his head. “Leave it to Serim to think with his heart rather than his head.”

Jungmo lets out a snort. “Says the man that was complaining about his own engagement only a few minutes ago.”

“At least I’m not stupid enough to want to marry a noble from a rival kingdom,” Minhee defends. 

“Things could get messy if Serim decides to proceed with this,” Jungmo says. “Allen would kill him before Isla even has the time to pick her wedding garments.” 

Minhee blinks in surprise. “Allen? Why would he do that?”

“In case you didn’t know, dear brother, what Serim is planning to do could be accounted for as treason,” Jungmo says in a low voice. “If Father finds out while he’s still alive, he’ll have Serim step down as heir apparent. If Serim manages to wait long enough for Father to die before marrying Isla, Allen would surely rally troops against Serim in the name of preserving our status as sworn enemies of Sedo.”

“You think Allen would really betray his own brother like that?” Minhee asks. “Why can’t we just convince Serim to push through with his marriage with Elya? Or, better yet, why can’t Allen just leave Serim alone? Serim _is_ the Crown Prince. His word is above the rest of us, whether we like it or not.”

Jungmo shakes his head, sighing heavily. 

“Oh, Minhee. You have no idea just how bad Allen wants that throne.” 

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Thank you for your time. Have a good evening.”

Allen bows as he concludes another brief questioning with some of the villagers residing within the forest. He hoists himself back up onto his horse, checking to see if Wonjin had done the same.

“You alright?” Allen asks, watching as his younger brother adjusts the reins on his horse. 

“I’m fine,” Wonjin answers curtly. “We should move on to another part of the forest.” 

Allen turns to the knight bearing the torch behind them. 

“How are we doing on oil for the torch?” Allen asks.

“There isn’t much left, Your Grace,” the knight answers. 

Allen nods. “Very well. Let’s round up the troops for tonight. We’ll resume the search at first light.” 

“But-,” Wonjin began.

“We’re not prepared to prolong this search any longer,” Allen cuts Wonjin off. “We’ll bring more men and supplies tomorrow.”

“And if Taeyoung and Seongmin are dead by tomorrow?” Wonjin argues, his expression stony.

“Their captors are no fools,” Allen points out. “Taeyoung and Seongmin are much more valuable to them alive than dead.” 

Wonjin falls silent, turning away as he urges his horse to move forward. Allen sighs, immediately chasing after Wonjin.

“You have to calm down,” Allen says once he’s side by side with Wonjin. “Letting your worries cloud your judgement won’t do Taeyoung or Seongmin any good.”

“They could be out of the country by now, for all we know,” Wonjin argues. 

“We’ll find them,” Allen says firmly. “But, for now, we need to round up our men. We don’t know what kind of danger lurks inside the forest at night.”

Allen and Wonjin spend the majority of the next hour riding through the brush, informing every one of their knights to pack up and head back for the castle. 

“Dorran,” Allen says, addressing their torchbearer. “Lead the others back to the castle. Wonjin and I will bring up the rear.”

The knight nods and rides off, leaving Allen and Wonjin to the faint light of their lanterns hanging from the sides of their horses’ saddles. 

“I’m glad that it’s a full moon tonight,” Allen points out peeking at the moon through the thick branches of the trees around them.

“Come on, we should be heading back as well,” Allen says, guiding his horse towards the direction of the castle. 

“Allen,” Wonjin calls out after a moment of silence.

“Yes?” Allen asks, turning to face Wonjin.

Wonjin chews at his bottom lip, his gaze fixed on his hands that were gripping the reins.

“How do you deal with seeing your men die in battle?” Wonjin asks.

“How can you look at their faces the night before, knowing that some of them will die the next day?”

Allen falls quiet, contemplating on Wonjin’s question. In an instant, Allen is taken back to the first battle he fought as general. 

It was an ugly scene. The dead bodies of his soldiers scattered all over the muddy bog, spears and swords sticking out of their bodies. The dying sounds of horses rang loud in Allen’s ears then. It’s the same sound he hears during his most horrible nightmares. 

“My soldiers heed my orders because they want to,” Allen begins carefully. “Yes, I am their general, but they entered the life of a soldier knowing full well that they will die on the battlefield. I did not force them to take up arms. That was their choice.”

Allen sighs. “Every battle is as difficult as the first. I grew up with some of those men. Children of our servants that trained with Serim and I when we were little.”

“At least,” Allen continues. “I am somehow at peace knowing that they died fighting with honor and dignity.”

Allen turns to look at Wonjin. “I don’t blame myself for my soldiers’ deaths. That’s not to say I haven’t made mistakes as a general, but letting my grief get out of hand is no way to honor them. So, don’t go around feeling sorry for yourself because you feel like you’ve failed Taeyoung and Seongmin. The best thing you could do now is to have your wits about you so you can save them while they’re still alive.” 

Allen chuckles bitterly before adding, “Don’t go around making rash decisions like a certain brother of ours.”

“What?” Wonjin asks cluelessly. “Who are you talking about?”

Allen snickers. “Who else but the Crown Prince himself?”

“Serim? What did he do?”

“More like what he's about to do,” Allen corrects. “He’s about to commit the biggest act of treason and familial betrayal in the history of Lumen Kingdom.”

Wonjin lets out a sound of disbelief. “Serim? Treason? What are you on about, Allen?”

“He made the mistake of divulging to some of his stewards that he wanted to marry Lady Isla from Sedo,” Allen explains. “He’s so infatuated with her, I’m sure he’ll commission some musicians to write songs about the two of them.”

“But, he’s supposed to marry Princess Elya from Yidora,” Wonjin reasons. “And Sedo is our enemy. Why would he do that?”

“Exactly,” Allen says. “If father hears about this, Serim will be stripped of his title as heir apparent.”

“Allen,” Wonjin begins carefully, a touch of nervousness in his voice. “Is this your way of telling me that you want to be king?”

Their conversation is interrupted when they hear the thundering of hooves behind them. As if on instinct, Allen draws his sword and rears his horse to turn around. Wonjin follows suit, albeit a little delayed, his sword gleaming in the moonlight. 

The two princes watch as two horses approach them, their swords pointed forward as a warning to the newcomers. The riders yield a few meters in front of them, their cloaks dark with the hoods pulled up, effectively obscuring their faces. 

“Who are you?” Allen’s voice thunders loud and clear in the midst of the quiet night. 

“We’ve come to make a proposal,” one of the riders declares, pulling his hood down to expose his face. His features are weathered, an indicator that this was a battle-hardened man, possibly having spent many hours marching under the heat of the sun. He reaches into his pocket and produces a trinket, faintly gleaming in the light of the princes’ lanterns.

Wonjin’s gasp is audible and Allen’s own heart sinks as he realizes what the rider was holding.

“We seized it from the younger one,” the rider snickers, throwing the Vity Clan pendant down to the ground. 

Wonjin leaps off his horse, keeping his sword drawn and his anger-filled eyes focused on the riders. He snatches the pendant up from where it landed, quickly pocketing it before slowly backing away. 

“What did you do to them?” Wonjin demands. “Answer me or I’ll cut your head clean off your neck.” 

The rider bursts out laughing. “A feisty one, I see.”

“Wonjin,” Allen commands. “Get back on your horse.” 

Wonjin huffs as he obeys, his gaze at the two riders never faltering.

“Is it money you want? Knightship? Land?” Allen asks, inching ever so slightly towards the riders. 

“Ten thousand gold coins,” the rider offers. “And you get your precious princes back.”

“Tell me who it is you serve, then we’ll talk,” Allen challenges through gritted teeth. 

“We’re the ones making demands here, _Your Grace_ ,” the rider replies, drawing out Allen’s honorific tauntingly.

“And I’m the one with a sword pointed at you,” Allen retaliates, charging forward and sticking the very tip of his sword right where the rider’s heart would be. Wonjin turns his attention to the other rider, the silent one, and brandishes his own sword as a warning. 

The rider with a sword pointed at his chest chuckles. 

“We did not come here to fight,” the rider reasons. “Have the money ready in two weeks’ time and we’ll return the young princes to you.” 

The riders start steering their horses towards the other direction. Wonjin moves as if wanting to go after them, but Allen holds out an arm to stop him. 

“The lake at the edge of the forest would be a decent enough meeting place,” the rider calls out behind him before he and his companion disappear into the thick brush. 

Allen and Wonjin sit in silence for a few moments before Wonjin lets out a frustrated sigh.

“How do we know they’ll stick to their word?” Wonjin scowls, sheathing his sword back in its scabbard. 

“They will,” Allen reassures. “You may have not seen it given the dim light, but one of them wore a doublet with the Sedo insignia embroidered on its front. Just seeing that damned red falcon made me want to drive that sword straight through his heart. They wouldn’t dare disobey someone like King Aran.” 

“So, these are King Aran’s men? They’re the ones holding Taeyoung and Seongmin hostage?” Wonjin asks in disbelief. 

“If this is true, then what you told me about Serim…,” Wonjin falters. 

“Serim needs to know about this,” Allen declares, pulling the reins on his horse. “He needs to know that King Aran thinks our brothers’ lives are worth ten thousand pieces of fucking gold.” 

  
  


\------

  
  


They’ve been plunged in darkness for what seemed like an eternity. Their stomachs grumble nonstop, the measly bowl of stale porridge having no effect on their growing hunger. 

Taeyoung and Seongmin were starving, dehydrated, and terrified. And it was only the first day.

Taeyoung struggles against his restraints, wriggling around in order to get closer to Seongmin. 

“The ropes around our wrists is one thing, but tying our ankles together?” Taeyoung complains under his breath, careful not to alert the guard standing outside their cell.

“I see being kidnapped didn’t change the fact that you still have an incredibly big mouth,” Seongmin mutters, elbowing Taeyoung in the ribs.

“I’m just saying!” Taeyoung whispers. “It’s not as if we have anywhere else to go. We’re locked behind metal bars, for crying out loud.”

Seongmin eyes the guard warily, afraid that they might be heard. 

“Do you think they asked our family for money in exchange for our safe return?” Seongmin wonders, leaning close to Taeyoung.

Taeyoung snickers. “If they had even half a brain, that would be the first thing they’d do.”

“So, that means, they won’t hurt us, right?” Seongmin wonders meekly.

Taeyoung reaches over, despite the difficulty, and clutches Seongmin’s hand in his. 

“I won’t let them,” Taeyoung assures. 

That night, the two lost princes fell asleep huddled together and with hearts full of hope, their dreams filled with the faces of their family. 


	5. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denique, mors advenit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a wild chapter, y'all. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> and for those of you who might be curious, the title of this fic is from the pretty reckless' song, "house on a hill". i highly recommend you give it a listen. it's kind of like the theme song of this whole fic.

Jungmo despises having to do this.

His stomach churns uneasily as he turns the knob, his palms sweaty and his chest constricting. He bites his discomfort down, pushing the heavy wooden door open. 

The King looks as disappointed as Jungmo expected.

“Father,” Jungmo greets as naturally as he can. 

“So, you’ve finally decided to visit me,” the King remarks sarcastically. He shifts his position on his bed, sitting up a little straighter. Even in his sickly state, the King still held an air of power around him. 

“I always visit you, Father,” Jungmo replies. “You just happen to be asleep each time.”

The King snorts. “Well, that’s a comforting thought.”

There’s a sting deep in Jungmo’s chest. His father always did this to him; always made Jungmo feel like the weakest link among him and his brothers. 

_‘And for what?’_ Jungmo asks himself. _‘For being terrible at combat? For preferring the company books in the library rather than knights on the battlefield?’_

Jungmo grits his teeth, unable to stop himself. 

“At least when you’re asleep, I don’t have to listen to you berate me about how much of a disappointment I am.”

The King stares at Jungmo icily. 

“You’ve gotten bold,” the King observes. “You’re finally learning something from your brothers.”

“I didn’t learn _shit_ from them!” Jungmo bites back. “All I learned is how to hate you even more than I did.”

The King coughs, the sound of his ragged breath punctuating the tense atmosphere in the room.

“Did you come here just to disrespect me, Jungmo?” the King asks, once he’s calmed down from his coughing fit.

“I came here to tell you everything I was too afraid to say before,” Jungmo says in a low voice. His expression is dark as he gazes upon his father. 

“You don’t have much time, anyway. I might as well just get it over with.” 

The King leans forward, his features twisting in anger. 

“You dare disrespect me so overtly?” the King bellows, his face turning red. “I could have you exiled right this instant!”

Jungmo strides up to his father’s bedside. “Then do it. Send another one of your sons away while two others are still missing!”

The King’s expression twists into confusion at first and then shock, his eyes wide as his composed facade falls. 

“What do you mean missing?!” the King demands. 

Jungmo reels back, shocked at what he had just revealed. 

“Y-You don’t know,” Jungmo says, more so as a statement rather than a question. “No one told you.”

“Who’s missing?” the King asks, pushing himself off from the headboard. 

“Tell me what’s going on, Jungmo!” the King roars, startling Jungmo, whose face had gone white from fear and worry. 

The door to the King’s bedroom suddenly bursts open, a worried-looking Hyeongjun running in. 

“Father? What’s the matter?” Hyeongjun asks, clearly out of breath, his gaze shifting between Jungmo and the King.

“What is this about two of you brothers going missing?” The King is furious at this point, eyeing his two sons with panic. “How dare you leave me out of matters like this! I am the King!”

“Father, let me explain,” Hyeongjun says carefully, holding his hands out in front of him. 

“A few days ago, Taeyoung and Seongmin were taken from the forest where they had been playing,” Hyeongjun recounts, cautiously placing his hands on the King’s shoulders in an effort to get him back in a lying position. “We don't know who’s behind it yet, but we’re figuring it out.”

The King drags himself to the edge of his bed before staggering onto his feet. 

“Father!” Hyeongjun cries out, rushing forward to catch the King before he falls. 

“You’re too weak to walk,” Hyeongjun says in a panic as the King tries to take a few steps forward.

Jungmo is frozen on the spot, the realization of what he had just done finally sinking in. He turns to Hyeongjun, who was already eyeing him with distaste. 

“Look at what you’ve done,” Hyeongjun accuses. Jungo had never seen Hyeongjun this furious before.

“I didn’t mean to--,” Jungmo stammers, panic rising in his own voice. “I just wanted to have a word with Father!” 

The King draws in a ragged breath as he settles back on his bed. “You all planned to keep this a secret from me, didn’t you? You all thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

The King inhales shakily. “My sons were stolen from right under my nose and no one was bothered enough to tell me!”

Hyeongjun’s eyes widen as he shakes his head. “We just wanted you to gain a little more strength. We didn’t want to make things worse for you.”

The King sucks in another breath, but it gets caught in his throat, a loud choking sound taking its place. The King clutches at his chest, his eyes growing wide in panic. 

It takes a second for both Jungmo and Hyeongjun to realize what was happening.

“W-What’s happening?” Jungmo asks, a heavy lump climbing up his throat. He watches as Hyeongjun frantically tries to lay their father down on his bed.

“He’s dying!” Hyeongjun yells, a look of horror in his eyes. He turns to Jungmo, pleading. 

“Bring the nurses and alert Father’s doctor!”

Jungmo nearly stumbles over his own feet as he races out of the room, his heart racing. A feeling of dread washes over him.

 _‘This is my fault_ ,’ he thought.

_‘I will be the reason for Father’s death.’_

  
  


\-----

  
  


“It just doesn’t make sense!” Serim insists as he pinches the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a headache creeping up at his temples.

“Why would King Aran ask us for ten thousand gold coins? If he wanted to ask for ransom, he’d ask for something more!” Serim reasons, leaning over the table in front of him. 

Allen pushes his chair back and stands. “Like what? A _treaty_ , Serim?”

“Maybe!” Serim says, throwing his hands up. “All I know is that King Aran wouldn’t kidnap our brothers for money.”

“How would you explain the Sedo insignia on the rider’s doublet, then?” Allen asks, an expectant look on his face. 

“You must have mistaken it for the Sedo insignia,” Serim suggests, standing up as well. “And if that _was_ the red falcon you saw, those riders could have just stolen them to throw us off. They could be bandits, for all we know! You said it yourself, it was dark. You were the only one who saw it.”

Allen narrows his eyes at Serim. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, Allen,” Serim says as he looks straight in Allen’s eyes. “I’m asking you to assess this situation a little more thoroughly.”

“You know what this looks like to me?” Allen asks, walking around the table to get to the other side where Serim is standing. Allen saunters right up to Serim, before pointing an accusatory finger at the older. 

“This looks like you making excuses for your precious Isla.”

The tension rises inside the study by a hundredfold, the air around the two eldest princes heating up as they continue to stare each other down. 

“Stop bringing Isla into this,” Serim says almost threateningly. 

“You were the one who brought her into this mess,” Allen counters, eyes narrowing. “You really should have just stayed home that day during the banquet at Yidora. Maybe then you wouldn’t have met her and we wouldn’t be in this situation today.”

Serim fills his gaze with as much venom as he can muster before letting his next words out of his mouth.

“And you really should just mind your own business, Allen.”

Serim turns his head away and laughs. “I don’t expect you to understand what I’m feeling. Love must be foreign to you. Besides, all you seem to care about is power.”

Serim looks back to Allen. “Especially power that isn’t rightfully yours.”

“Your Graces!”

The door to the study slams open, taking the two princes by surprise. They turn to see their Lord Chamberlain, Sir Kiran, standing in the doorway, his face as white as a piece of fresh parchment. 

“Pardon my interruption, Prince Serim and Prince Allen, but I bring grave news concerning your father.” Sir Kiran rushes his words, his voice shaky and uncertain. 

Serim and Allen share a look, their shaken expressions identical. They already know. 

“The King has passed.”

The next few moments are a blur to both Serim and Allen, until Sir Kiran rushes to kneel, his head bowed low in Serim’s direction. Allen breathes in sharply as he looks Serim in the eye. 

“Long live the new King,” Allen declares before dropping on one knee to pay Serim his respects. 

  
  


\-----

  
  


Hyeongjun’s whole body had gone numb hours ago. He felt as if he wasn’t in control of what he was doing. It was evident in the way he was surprised when he found himself standing in the cold, damp morgue in the basement of their castle. 

He can see the elevated marble slab in the middle of the room. He can see his father’s corpse lying there, fresh from the undertaker’s procedures. What Hyeongjun didn’t expect to see was Jungmo, standing over their father, a sullen look on the older prince’s face.

“Did you come down here to disrespect our Father one last time?” Hyeongjun questions icily, walking over to the marble table. 

Jungmo gave a start at the sound of Hyeongjun’s voice, but he quickly pushed his surprise away.

“I don’t feel good about what I did, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jungmo declares, his gaze falling back down to his father’s ashen face.

“You killed him. It was all because of you,” Hyeongjun accuses. “What were you even doing in his room?”

“Didn’t I have a right to visit my sick father?” Jungmo argues back.

“Why would you? You didn’t even care about him!” Hyeongjun yells, his voice bouncing off the bare walls. 

“And he never cared about you,” Hyeongjun adds through gritted teeth. After a moment, Hyeongjun realizes what he had just said, his eyes falling shut as he bites his lip in frustration.

“I didn’t--That’s not--,” Hyeongjun stutters. 

Jungmo’s expression shifts, his face devoid of any emotion. 

“I already knew that,” Jungmo says. He turns back to his father’s corpse and sighs. 

“He couldn’t even muster up the courage to tell me that himself before he died.”

Surprisingly, Jungmo smiles up at Hyeongjun, but Hyeongjun can see the tears welling up in his brother’s eyes. 

“When you’re ready, you let me know what it feels like to be Father’s favorite,” Jungmo whispers. The older prince turns away, rushing out of the morgue, leaving Hyeongjun alone.

Hyeongjun sinks to his knees, his quiet sobs the only sound that can be heard within the morgue.

  
  


\-----

  
  


_To the respected King Aran, ruler of Sedo Kingdom:_

_Our kingdoms have been sworn enemies for hundreds of years. My great-grandfather put an end to your family’s attempts of claiming our land as your own. Since then, we have been skirting around each other, careful not to anger the other lest it may lead to war. But, I am done with formalities. I will not be careful when it is my family’s lives that are put at risk._

_I do not know the purpose of your twisted plans, but snatching my two youngest brothers away from the safety of their home is the same as declaring war upon Lumen Kingdom once more. And as if that was not enough, to further add injury to insult, you had the gall to ask us for ten thousand gold coins in exchange for my brothers. For what purpose the money will go to, I do not care to know, but I expected more from you, King Aran. Ten thousand gold coins for the lives of two young princes is cheap._

_My brother, the new King, wants to propose a treaty with you to end the hundred years of unrest between our kingdoms. I say, he can shove his treaty up his lovesick ass. I will bring you war, King Aran. And it will be the last one you will ever fight._

_Prince Allen of Lumen_


	6. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so very sorry for taking such a long time in updating. things have been HECTIC this past week. but, here you go, my lovely readers, a longer chapter for you!! this chapter rlly challenged me tbh but aaaa anyways it's here!
> 
> ok ANYWAYS, please enjoy and as always, kudos and comments are much appreciated <3

The past three days had been a whirlwind of events that whipped by so fast, it seemed nearly impossible for Minhee to comprehend everything that had happened. 

The news of his father’s passing sent a stab of pain through his chest, a million thoughts running through his mind all at the same time. He may not have been the closest son to his father, but Minhee loved him all the same. 

It was a strange thing to remember then, but the moment Minhee was told about his father's death, he was reminded of the day his parents revealed to him that he was to be married within the next few months. The King and Queen summoned him to the family study, the King standing by the fireplace while the Queen sat at the head of the long wooden table in the middle of the room, sealing letters and working through heaps of parchment.

Minhee had stood by the doorway, silent and waiting for his parents to say something. The King turned to him and smiled, beckoning Minhee to his spot by the fireplace.

It pained Minhee to think of the days before his father’s illness took over, but each word his father said to him that day unraveled in his mind, anyway.

 _“One day, you’ll build a family much like ours,”_ his father had said to him. _“I hope you remember me when you look into your children’s eyes.”_

Minhee sighs as he’s shaken out of his thoughts by a sharp prick on his left shoulder.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” says the meek voice of one of the seamstress’ assistants. The young girl pulls the thread through Minhee’s doublet, fingers expertly working on the final touches of embroidery decorating Minhee’s clothes. 

Minhee looks at himself in the mirror. The opulent patterns and bright colors of his clothes were a stark contrast to his solemn expression. It felt wrong to be wearing such lavish clothing when three members of his family were gone. 

Minhee purses his lips as he reminds himself that Taeyoung and Seongmin won’t be gone for long. 

“ _They’ll be brought home safe any day now_ ,” Minhee assures himself. Allen had promised that much, despite having made a deal with who they presumed were Taeyoung and Seongmin’s abductors. Allen wasn’t going to sit on his hands and wait for the two weeks to be over. He had search parties out there, carefully threading through every known place in the kingdom. Even if the captors _were_ King Aran’s men as Allen assumed, Allen and his men wouldn’t go down without a fight. Taeyoung and Seongmin _will_ come home. 

“We have finished, Your Grace,” the seamstress announces, smoothing a gentle hand over the freshly embroidered doublet. 

Minhee nods, still staring at the patterns on his clothes. “Thank you. You may take your leave.”

The seamstress and her assistants bow before stepping out of Minhee’s room. Minhee walks over to his bed and sits, burying his face in his hands. It was all too much. Their family isn’t ready for something like this.

But, the Queen had insisted. 

After she had settled down from the news about Taeyoung and Seongmin, the Queen had assumed her previous persona once again. Tough, commanding, and level headed. She attended to her sick husband, ran the castle affairs, and reminded the princes of their daily duties. It had felt like nothing had changed. But, Minhee knew it was his mother’s way of dealing with the heartbreak and turmoil. 

And then, the King died. 

Minhee had been with the Queen in the castle garden, talking of wedding plans when they were informed of the King’s passing by one of the castle stewards. Minhee’s first thought was of his mother, standing right next to him, her fists clenching as she took in the news. The Queen turned to Minhee, eyes glistening with tears, her face no longer the vibrant and regal one Minhee was so used to seeing. The Queen looked tired, the wrinkles on her face deeper than they had been before. 

“Let us go, my son,” the Queen said, reaching out to clutch at Minhee’s arm. “Your brothers will be waiting for us.”

That night, the Queen announced that Serim’s coronation was to take place in three days’ time. She had reasoned that with the current situation at hand, they couldn’t afford to live any longer without a proper king. All letters of invitation to neighboring kingdoms and to Lumen’s nobles were sent out that very night. Anyone who could come within three days’ time was welcome to attend.

And now, three days later, Minhee sits on his bed, a heavy weight in his stomach at the absurdity of it all. 

A soft knock comes from Minhee’s bedroom door. Minhee lifts his head and contemplates whether he should welcome the person in or not. After a moment, Minhee pushes himself off the bed and opens the door himself.

Hyeongjun stands on the other side of the doorway, a similarly embellished doublet fitted on his body. 

“Mother wants us in the great hall,” Hyeongjun says flatly, the dark circles under his eyes seemingly accentuated in the dim lighting of the castle, despite it being only near noon. 

“It’s starting already?” Minhee asks. Hyeongjun nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line. 

“I see,” Minhee mutters under his breath as he steps out of his room.

The walk to the great hall is a silent one, despite the servants and maids walking up and down the halls, desperately trying to keep up with the demands of all the lords and ladies gathered in the castle today. Neither Hyeongjun nor Minhee say a word, their eyes cast forward, all the world’s seriousness seemingly etched on both their faces.

The two princes pass by the family study just as the door swings open, revealing Allen and Woobin, dressed up in their finest clothes as well. The four princes share a look before continuing down the hall. 

“I hear Lord Dohan and his family are in attendance,” Woobin speaks up, turning back to give Minhee a look. 

Hyeongjun looks up at Minhee, the corners of his lips momentarily turning up into a smile. 

“It’s time to meet your bride, Minhee,” Hyeongjun teases, hitting Minhee’s arm lightly. 

There’s a strange feeling in Minhee’s chest, one he can’t quite identify. The mention of his future wife turned his hands cold, a sudden wave of nervousness overcoming him. Everything he was feeling at that moment was nearly too overwhelming for him, but Minhee managed a smile. 

“Perhaps so,” Minhee agrees. 

A moment later, Jungmo and Wonjin emerge from a side hallway, seemingly in a hurry. They both stop at the sight of their brothers, their expressions startled. 

Minhee doesn’t miss the way Hyeongjun turns his gaze away from Jungmo.

“Good, we’re all here. Makes things easier,” Allen points out. The rest of them nod in agreement.

“Where have you two been?” Minhee questions the two newcomers as they continue their descent down to the great hall. 

“The library,” Wonjin answers curtly, fiddling with his sleeves. “I went to fetch Lord Recluse over here,” Wonjin adds, jerking his head in Jungmo’s direction.

Jungmo doesn’t say anything, his gaze fixed forward. Minhee was used to seeing Jungmo all serious, but the look in Jungmo’s eyes told Minhee that there was something deeply bothering the older prince.

The six princes make their way down the grand staircase, maids and servants bowing as they pass by. 

The corridor outside the great hall was nearly empty, with the exception of a few figures standing by the door. Minhee immediately recognizes the High Clergy, donned in all white, as well as two other clergymen beside him. In their hands are the neatly folded purple cloak that once belonged to the princes’ father; the official regalia of Lumen Kingdom’s ruling monarch. Nestled on top of it is the crown of Lumen Kingdom itself in all its shining glory. 

Behind the High Clergy is Serim, dressed up in a deep red doublet, a matching cape pinned to his shoulders. The Crown Prince stood there, his chin up and his arms held behind his back. Seeing Serim standing there with such an assured look on his face, Minhee realizes that everything in that moment is as real as it gets. His father is dead and his brother will be King in a moment’s time. 

The Queen stands beside her eldest son, her flowing red gown a perfect match with what Serim is wearing. Her lips are pursed, her eyes flitting back and forth restlessly. She spots the other princes approaching and her previously tense shoulders sink down, her expression softening. 

Minhee locks eyes with Serim and Minhee offers him the widest smile he can muster. It’s a day to celebrate, after all. Even with all the grief weighing heavily on the rest of the royal family’s hearts. 

The brothers take turns in locking Serim in their embrace. Even Allen pulls him in for a quick clap on the back. When it’s Minhee’s turn, he looks Serim straight in the eye and sighs.

“I’m sure Taeyoung and Seongmin are proud of you,” Minhee whispers. “Father would be, too.”

Serim nods, his eyes misting over. They embrace for a few moments, Serim whispering a brief “thank you” before pulling away. 

Minhee straightens himself up as the princes are lining up in front of the High Clergy. They stand in order from youngest to oldest, with Hyeongjun at the very front and Allen at the end. The Queen places herself behind Allen, the High Clergy and clergymen following suit, and finally, Serim takes his place at the very back of the line. Minhee’s heart aches as he eyes the empty space in front of Hyeongjun. 

What was supposed to be eight brothers leading their eldest to the crown had now merely become six. 

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Woobin stands in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed and looking pointedly at Wonjin who’s dressed in full riding gear, his sword strapped to his waist. 

“The nighttime search party is leaving in a few minutes. I’m coming with,” Wonjin answers matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Woobin walks forward, his hands held out. He places his palms on Wonjin’s shoulders and sighs.

“Wonjin, your brother was crowned as King today. The least you could do is be there with him to celebrate,” Woobin says carefully, giving Wonjin a pleading look. 

“I’ve done enough celebrating,” Wonjin insists, shrugging Woobin’s hands off. “I can’t sit here feasting with all these lords and ladies while my brothers are still _missing_.” 

Woobin sucks in a deep breath. “Very well. If you don’t want to celebrate, at least rest. Our men are doing everything they can to bring Taeyoung and Seongmin back. You have to trust them.” 

“Are you hearing yourself? Do you not care about Taeyoung and Seongmin at all?” Wonjin argues, stepping back. Woobin sees the anger in Wonjin’s eyes and it worries him.

“Calm down,” Woobin says, trying to hide the annoyance rising from his chest. “Mother has been through enough. We all have been, but Mother most especially. The last thing she wants is another one of us leaving her sight without her knowing where we’re going.” 

Wonjin squares his shoulders, his mouth turned down into a frown. “I’ll tell her then. She’d understand.” 

Before Woobin could get another word in, Wonjin steps around him and storms off further down the hall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. 

Woobin runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Wonjin has always been a hothead and extremely impulsive at the worst of times. The young prince had a fire burning inside of him that no one, not even their parents, could quench. Woobin prays that this isn’t what brings Wonjin’s undoing. 

Woobin’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears a woman’s voice from the end of the hallway. Woobin looks up and sees two people approaching from the direction of the great hall. 

Woobin’s gaze lands on Minhee’s tall figure, his face turned towards the elegantly dressed lady beside him. 

_“Lady Aline of the East Region_ ,” Woobin realizes. 

Minhee looks up and meets Woobin’s eyes, effectively startling the younger prince. Minhee quickly averts his gaze and ducks his head in what Woobin presumes is embarrassment. 

Woobin chuckles quietly to himself. Just a moment ago, he was berating one of his brothers for possibly putting his safety at risk, and now, Woobin gets to see another one of his brothers shyly make small talk with his future wife. 

Woobin shakes his head, turning away from the couple before walking towards the direction of the library. 

  
  


\-----

  
  


“You’re going _where?_ And _when_?” Jungmo asks, nearly choking on his wine.

“Sedo. Tomorrow,” Serim answers. 

“And to do _what_?” Jungmo asks again.

Serim laughs, and Jungmo assumes it’s because of how amusing he must look to Serim.

“To propose a treaty to King Aran and ask for Isla’s hand in marriage.” 

The brothers had all gotten up from their seats in favor of walking around the great hall, greeting all the noblemen and noblewomen they could. Despite initial protests, Hyeongjun had conceded and allowed himself to be dragged into the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the great hall. As of the moment, the young prince has his arms linked with a pretty lady with bright eyes, who Jungmo later learns is Lady Jiwoo from the West Region. 

“Don’t you think you’re moving too fast?” Jungmo asks, tearing his eyes away from Hyeongjun. The sight of his younger brother still pains Jungmo, no matter how hard he denies it.

“I’m not getting any younger, Jungmo,” Serim replies simply. “I’m already past the usual age of marriage. Finding a suitable lady to marry is one of my top priorities. It’s for the sake of the kingdom.”

Jungmo swallows and chooses his next words carefully. From what he knows, Serim is unaware that Jungmo already knows about his desire to marry Isla, so the younger treads on with caution.

“You’re telling me that you want to abandon your engagement to Elya in favor of Isla?” Jungmo asks, trying his best to sound surprised. 

Serim snickers, turning towards Jungmo. “Don’t act as if you didn’t know already.”

All Jungmo can do is blink, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the words to say. 

“My stewards aren’t the best keepers of secrets,” Serim muses. “I presume all of you know by now?” 

Jungmo gives up on trying to explain himself and just nods. “We do, Serim. And I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“You and Allen both,” Serim points out, shrugging. 

“I think it’s safe to say that we’re all against it,” Jungmo asserts. “Mother would be, too, if she knew.”

Serim falls quiet, his lips pressed together as a pensive look takes over his features. 

“I promised myself I’d only tell her once I’m crowned as King,” Serim explains. “I know she wouldn’t like it, but I also know she’d understand where I’m coming from.”

“Tell me something, Serim,” Jungmo says, turning to face Serim fully. “If you weren’t King, would you still pursue Isla?”

Serim stares back at Jungmo, his expression unreadable. Jungmo waits, the commotion around them seemingly being drowned out by the anticipation. 

“Yes,” Serim admits.

Jungmo nods slowly. “So, you were willing to betray Father just like that? Were you planning on running away and eloping someplace else? Is that what you had in mind?”

There was a flash of anger in Serim’s eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

“I would have found a way to convince Father. I’m sure of that,” Serim says, looking away.

“Father wasn’t the kind to be so easily swayed,” Jungmo reminds, snickering. “He hated Sedo with every fiber of his being.”

“Well, Father is gone,” Serim snaps. Jungmo is slightly taken aback by this. Serim’s usual gentleness is nowhere in sight.

“And from what I hear, it’s all thanks to you,” Serim finishes.

Jungmo’s blood runs cold. His stomach twists painfully at Serim’s words. 

“You think so, too?” Jungmo asks quietly. He looks Serim in the eye, shaking his head. 

“And here I thought you would treat me better than Father ever did. It turns out you’re just like him.”

  
  


\-----

  
  


Seongmin is shivering in Taeyoung’s arms and it takes everything in Taeyoung not to cry out in panic and despair. 

They’ve been imprisoned for days in what they can only assume is a castle’s dungeon. The meager meals weren’t helping and the stale air was taking its toll on Seongmin’s health. 

“Can we have some warm water?” Taeyoung calls out to the guard stationed outside their cell. “Please, my brother needs water.”

As if to prove Taeyoung’s point, Seongmin collapses into a coughing fit, his breathing ragged as he wheezes and gasps in an attempt to suck in air into his lungs. 

The guard turns to look at the two young princes and just stands there, staring for a while. After a moment, he signals to someone that Taeyoung can’t see.

“Two cups and a pitcher of warm ale. Make it quick,” the guard says gruffly. He turns away once more, assuming his previous stance.

“We really should have brought our cloaks along when we went into the forest,” Seongmin comments, forcing a laugh.

“We didn’t know we’d be abducted, you fool,” Taeyoung jokes along, his spirits lifting up a little bit when he hears Seongmin snicker. 

“Mother told us to, though,” Seongmin points out. 

Taeyoung stops to ponder on that for a moment. Their mother. He missed her dearly. Taeyoung missed their father, too. And of course, the rest of his brothers as well. Taeyoung is sure Seongmin misses them more. The youngest prince had always been loved and adored by the rest of their family. It made Taeyoung’s heart swell just thinking of the times their family had spent together, blissfully unaware of the fate that was about to befall them.

The loud clang of metal interrupts Taeyoung’s thoughts as the guard opens the door to their cell. The guard approaches them and squats down to their level. 

Taeyoung straightens up, trying his best to look at the guard’s face despite the dim light in the dungeon. Seongmin pulls himself up, too, his breathing labored as he continued to struggle in his breathing. 

“Here,” the guard says, setting the pitcher of ale and the two cups down. Taeyoung and Seongmin just stare at it.

“I asked for water,” Taeyoung says flatly. The guard laughs at this. 

“Apologies, Your Grace. Clean water is hard to get by around here,” the guard informs Taeyoung. 

“Besides,” the guard continues, pouring the ale into each cup. “Warm ale always helped me when I was sick.”

The guard hands the two young princes the cups. Taeyoung and Seongmin take the cups, albeit a little reluctantly. 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had ale before,” the guard asks, chuckling. 

“We have,” Taeyoung answers defensively. He turns to Seongmin who was already taking a big gulp of the liquid. Seongmin swallows and breathes a sigh of relief.

“See? Clears up your throat just like that,” the guard points out. He stands up and slowly makes his way out of the cell. 

Taeyoung takes little sips of his ale, thankful for the momentary warmth it brings his stomach. 

“Enjoy the drinks, Your Graces. Consider it as you celebrating this momentous event with your family,” the guard calls out as he locks the cell bars. 

Taeyoung and Seongmin turn to each other once more, more puzzled than ever. 

“Momentous event? What are you talking about?” Taeyoung asks. 

The guard finishes up with the lock before looking straight at Taeyoung. 

“Your father is dead, and your brother Serim was crowned King earlier today.”


	7. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are as strong as they are stubborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update took longer than the last one and i am SO sorry ;; 
> 
> also! i made a huge mistake in the last chapter but i fixed it now. serim is on his way to _sedo_ not yidora aaaa i am also sorry for that.
> 
> anyways, please enjoy this chapter (and the surprise at the end)!

“Do you want to know one thing I love about you and your brothers?”

Hyeongjun lifts his eyes from the stack of letters he was previously organizing. The Queen is seated on the other end of the table, her arms neatly folded on the wooden surface in front of her. The young prince just stares, his eyebrows raised in question.

The Queen chuckles to herself. “You are all so painfully stubborn.” 

The Queen looks into Hyeongjun’s eyes and smiles. “Each one of you never let anything stop you from doing what you wanted to do. Your father and I could only do so much, but if you boys wanted it, you’d get it, no matter what it took.” 

The Queen sighs. “That’s what frightens me the most, as well,” 

Hyeongjun straightens up in his seat. He fiddles with a piece of parchment in between his fingers, trying to make sense of what his mother had just said. 

“But, I’ve always been obedient to you and Father,” Hyeongjun points out. His chest tightens as he mentions his father. Hyeongjun had lost count of how many days it’s been since his father’s passing.

“And you never listened to anyone else,” The Queen replies, giving Hyeongjun a knowing look. “Not even yourself.” 

Hyeongjun falls quiet and ponders on his mother’s words for a moment. Of course, Hyeongjun had things he wanted to do, but he always pushed them aside in favor of his parents’ wishes. Like all the times his brothers would force him to sneak off into their garden at night so they could play hide and seek. Hyeongjun had always quivered in fear of what their parents would say about their nightly escapades. 

“All nine of you have something you believe in. And all of you would protect it with everything you have.” The Queen’s voice tears Hyeongjun out of his thoughts, their eyes meeting once more. 

“Serim is off chasing his bride. He should have arrived at Sedo by now. Wonjin is somewhere deep in the woods with Allen, tirelessly searching for your two youngest brothers.” The Queen turns her head towards the window where streams of afternoon light are filtering in. Hyeongjun sees tears well up in his mother’s eyes. 

“Oh, Taeyoung and Seongmin,” The Queen whispers. “If only you two hadn’t insisted on playing out that day.” 

Hyeongjun draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. It never occurred to him just how difficult it must have been to raise all nine of them, each with their own desires and agendas. It made Hyeongjun miss his father even more. He knew The King was the only one who could keep all nine of them in check. 

Hyeongjun pauses. _‘Oh, right. Serim is King now.’_

“I’m terrified to even let one of you out of the castle,” The Queen admits, her voice quiet. “I might wake up one day and find out that another one of you won’t be returning home.” 

Hyeongjun pushes himself out of his seat, taking long strides towards his mother. He takes her hand in his as he reaches her. The Queen looks up, tears streaming down her face. 

“My brothers are as strong as they are stubborn,” Hyeongjun asserts firmly. “You’ve said it yourself, Mother. Nothing ever comes in our way.” 

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Should we consider the fact that King Aran’s men might have brought Taeyoung and Seongmin back to Sedo?” Wonjin asks, wiping sweat off his forehead as the harsh afternoon sun beats down on them.

“We’ve searched every part of this forest and beyond. Some of our men almost reached the entrance to the East Kingdom, and yet they come up with nothing of note,” Wonjin adds. 

“It takes at least three days to reach Sedo from here. Lugging them back and forth through the East Sea wouldn’t be much of a practical move on their part,” Allen reasons out, uncapping his waterskin to take a drink. 

Wonjin studies his older brother for a moment. “You seem to be putting a lot of faith in King Aran and his men. Are you sure they’re honorable enough to stick to their word?” 

Allen finishes his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They’d be foolish not to. I’ve made it known that one misstep on their part would lead to consequences.”

“What do you mean you’ve made it known?” Wonjin asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“I might have sent a letter to King Aran as a warning,” Allen replies, shrugging. 

“What?” Wonjin splutters out.

Wonjin walks his horse right next to Allen’s, the younger prince’s eyes wide with surprise.

“What exactly did you say in that letter?” Wonjin asks cautiously. 

Allen gives Wonjin a look, his lips turning down into a frown. “That’s none of your business.”

Wonjin splutters, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. 

“ _None of my business?!_ ” Wonjin’s voice rises higher than intended. “Allen, if you did as much as _threaten_ King Aran, Serim could be _dead_ by tonight!” 

“I didn’t know Serim would be sailing off to Sedo so soon,” Allen defends. “I was waiting for King Aran to respond.”

Wonjin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe Allen would be so ready to abandon his own brother like that.

“He could have responded with a thousand men storming Lumen shores, all ready for war,” Wonjin answers back. 

“Did you at least tell Serim about the letter you sent?” Wonjin asks, visibly angry. 

“I did,” Allen replies. “I’m not a fool, Wonjin. Serim said he’d apologize on my behalf and he’d try to get to the bottom of everything once he arrives at Sedo.”

“You would let your own brother walk into the lion’s den alone?” Wonjin asks, his voice rising with each passing second.

“Enough with your dramatics, Wonjin. He’s not alone. He practically has a full army with him,” Allen retaliates. “As much as I hate to say it, Serim is no fool, either. He wouldn’t walk into King Aran’s castle without anyone to protect him.”

Wonjin opens his mouth to protest once more, but he’s interrupted by a member of their search party. The knight rides up to them, his breathing labored.

“Your Graces, one of the others found an abandoned castle near the marshlands towards the west,” the knight declares. “There seemed to be a group of bandits residing there.”

Wonjin’s ears perk up at the news. He pulls his horse’s reins, ready to speed off.

Allen nods. “We’ll take a look. How far off west is this?”

“An hour’s horse ride, Your Grace,” the knight replies. 

“We don’t have any time to waste,” Wonjin points out, snapping the reins down on his horse. The horse starts its speedy gallop, sending Wonjin ahead of Allen. The wind beats against Wonjin’s face as he heads westward, barely sparing his older brother a glance. 

\-----

The ride from the docks to King Aran’s seaside castle was short and quiet. The villagers eyed Serim with varying looks of shock and suspicion, the deep purple of Lumen Kingdom’s flag waving wildly in the salty wind. 

Serim had always loved the sea. The few times he and his brothers were allowed to come along on their father’s voyages, the oldest prince would always stand by his father’s side above deck, taking in the vast body of water around him. It was an incredible sight to see. It always reminded Serim of how much bigger the world is and how much of it he hasn’t seen.

Serim draws in a breath as he and his men approach the heavy iron gates of King Aran’s castle. The Sedo guards eye Serim’s group for a moment before one of them steps forward and bows.

“We have been expecting you, King Serim,” the guard declares. 

The title still rings uncomfortably in Serim’s ears. 

“I presume King Aran received my letter announcing my arrival?” Serim asks. The guard straightens up and nods once.

“He has, Your Grace. As well as that of your brother’s.”

Serim’s jaw tightens at the mention of Allen’s letter. It had taken three full days for Allen to say anything about the letter he sent to King Aran. The fact that he had said in such a lax manner made it much more infuriating for Serim.

-

_“Are you sure Sedo is the best place to voyage to right now?”_ _Allen had asked on the night of Serim’s coronation, just as the festivities started dwindling down._

_“Knowing that King Aran could be behind Taeyoung and Seongmin’s abduction?” Allen added, giving Serim a sideward glance._

_“You have no proof of that,” was all Serim said._

_Allen turned to Serim, the younger’s expression unwavering in its seriousness._

_“That’s why we’ll be letting King Aran provide the proof you’re asking for,” Allen had simply said, turning away once more to take a sip of his wine._

_Serim looked at his brother in confusion._

_“I don’t understand,” Serim said, his eyes narrowing._

_Allen’s gaze remained forward as he watches a number of their guests take their leave._

_“You mustn’t go to Sedo. Not before King Aran answers my letter.”_

_Serim surprised even himself as he grabbed on to the front of Allen’s doublet, the younger’s eyes growing wide with surprise. A few of the guests nearby eyed them with the same shock._

_“What did you say in that letter?” Serim asked through gritted teeth._

_Allen shoved Serim away, some of the wine in his cup spilling over._

_“I told him I don’t give two shits about the treaty you want to propose,” Allen said with a sneer. “He and I can fight the war while you and your precious Isla run off somewhere else.”_

_-_

The anger Serim had felt that night towards his younger brother was indescribable. The only thing that could compare to his rage was his fear. The situation between Lumen and Sedo was precarious enough before Allen decided to send his letter, but now, it seems like the scales have been tipped. 

“I apologize on behalf of my brother,” Serim begins, bowing his head. “We do not share the same sentiments.”

“Now, the only thing left to do is to let King Aran know that,” Serim adds with a smile. 

The guard returns the gesture warmly before signaling for the gates to be opened. The iron creaks and groans as they’re pulled open, revealing a rocky path leading up to the cliff where the castle rests on. 

Serim and his guards tread forward, the uneven path a drastic change from the fields and meadows of Lumen. Serim grips tightly at the reins on his horse until his knuckles turn white, his heart hammering against his chest. What awaits Serim inside the castle is unknown, but the thought of seeing Isla puts him at ease. 

The front gate is already wide open, welcoming Serim’s group right into the castle courtyard. Just as the last of Serim’s knights enter, the gates are abruptly shut, the loud clang echoing in the nearly empty space. 

Serim looks around, unsure of what to do next. He was half expecting King Aran to be waiting for him, but that might have been a little too much wishful thinking on Serim’s part.

The courtyard is of modest size, smaller than the castle courtyard back in Lumen. Double wooden doors sit atop massive stone steps at the front of the castle. ‘ _The main entrance,’_ Serim thought.

At that moment, the doors fly open, revealing a figure donned in extravagant red and black garments. Serim immediately takes notice of the tiny red falcons embroidered on this person’s cloak. Long, scraggly, salt and pepper hair reaches down to the person’s shoulder, and resting atop the gray-speckled mane is a shining, golden crown. Serim draws in a breath. 

“King Aran,” Serim greets. 

King Aran smiles at Serim, bowing slightly. “How was your trip?” King Aran asks. He stands under the entrance to his castle, unmoving.

Serim unmounts off his horse before bowing in return. “It was wonderful. The weather was on our side.”

“Ah, yes,” King Aran begins. “Luck has prevailed for you.” 

Serim starts walking towards the stone steps leading up to the entrance, wanting to converse with King Aran more comfortably, but the sound of rushing footsteps stops Serim in his tracks. Sedo guards start to emerge from behind corners, creating a barrier between the entrance and Serim’s men. 

“Will luck still be with you when I throw you into the dungeons beneath my castle?” King Aran questions, clasping his hands behind his back. A pair of Sedo guards start approaching Serim.

The rest of King Aran’s men spring into action, subduing Serim’s own men faster than Serim can process the events in his head. The two guards quickly flank the young king, forcing his arms behind his back. One of them knees Serim in the back, and Serim falls to the ground. 

“You have some nerve coming here after what your brother did,” King Aran spits out. “Or, were you not aware that your brother threatened my life?”

“I am not my brother,” Serim struggles to reply as his arms are bound behind him, the rough material of the rope digging even through his sleeves. 

“You should have disowned him before coming to me,” King Aran jeers. “That’s not the kind of family I want my niece to be married into.” 

Serim looks up at King Aran, his eyes pleading for mercy. 

“Speaking of Isla, I made sure she’d be resting at this hour, so she wouldn’t know of your arrival,” King Aran explains, sighing. “And, yes, I know about you and Isla. We have extremely chatty maids.”

King Aran lets out a laugh, but the gleam in his eyes is anything but joyous. 

“Now, how many men did you leave aboard your ship? How many of them are wandering around the docks at this moment? Surely, this isn’t everyone?” King Aran asks, gesturing around the struggling Lumen knights. Some of Serim’s men try to fight back, but they’re quickly silenced with heavy blows to their heads.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter,” King Aran continues, smiling down at Serim once more. “I have enough men to kill them all.”

Serim starts to protest, yelling incoherently, his words a jumbled mess of Isla’s name, pleas for his life, and curses directed towards Allen. A million thoughts run through the young king’s mind as panic starts to take over his body.

Serim is lifted up and dragged deeper into King Aran’s property. He tries to resist, but the restraints around him were too much. 

All Serim can think about at that moment are the faces of his family. Their meals together. The afternoons spent playing on the courtyard with his brothers. Isla’s smile. The way her soft hands felt against his own. Her letters. All the questions he had for her.

_How have you been? How have the two of you been? Do you want it to be a boy or a girl? What should we name him or her? Do you think it’ll look more like you or me?_

As Serim approaches the shadowy gates leading to the dungeons, the fear quietly nibbling away at his chest starts to devour him from the inside. 

For the first time in a long time, Serim allows himself to cry.


End file.
